The uneasy hush of whispers and suspicious eyes fell over the room as I exited the Maester's quarters. My hair hung wet and clean as it wrapped around my shoulders. Ivory skin now shined prettily under the dismal candlelight. Jon stood at my side rigidly, staring down anyone that kept their eyes burning a hole in me for too long.
"Ignore them. They will soon see you are no threat." Jon had become softer when we stood alone in the Maester's office. An intense level attention and interrogation had fully swept out any and all details of my journey since leaving the Inn that night so long ago. I had not needed to lie nor exaggerate the torture and treatment endured upon capture - all of which induced sympathy and remorse on his part. Though, I left out the mention of Allys and Ramsay's true intention in leaving me here.
"I should never have left you that morning. I knew you were frightened. I could have kept you safe."
Touching as the statement may have been, I didn't let it warm my heart as it might once have done. Instead reminding him that fleeing his party had been my choice - not his. Ramsay would have caught up to me anyhow; whether Jon thought so or not. You cannot hide from a born hunter and Ramsay was the most vicious hunter I had ever known.
With linen wraps now holding broken ribs and shredded skin back into place the evening ahead became less painful to withstand. Jon had left me alone in a dust coated library with
Sam while he attended meetings with his council. Sam had filled our time together with nervous chatter and sickly sweet smiles of sympathy every time he caught me wince or catch my breath. The man was kind. Soft. Softer than any man I had ever met before. Ramsay would eat him alive.
As dusk fell into a bitter night the scarce scraps of what the men classed as a meal was plated up and served in a stony room; barren tables were the only decoration lining the walls. I still had not seen Jon. Without his watching eyes many of the men did not restrain from raking me up and down with bitter scowls and lewd stares - some even being so bold as to talk about fucking me over dinner before sending my body back to the bastard of Winterfell. He's going kill all of you - and I am going to watch. Others stared soundlessly. I suppose they thought they were being respectful, but I was not a stranger to the carnality of men deprived of a woman. So many of these men were starved of female companionship I felt much like a lamb left to the wolves sat among them. The atmosphere in the room was soaring with both male lust and the vicious hatred bred from a war I took no part in. Once sober men that had held their hands and tongues began to lose themselves to their cups; inhibitions set aside as the ale did nothing to dowse the fire that ached in their groins. Some moved closer to our table, outstretched arms snagging my clothes and twirling my hair tauntingly. They were becoming braver. Like the vultures of the woodland they circled back and forth to test the strength of prey - not quite certain if it was safe to land and devour the carcass without awakening the beast that had maimed it.
Sam sensed the change of the atmosphere and seemed just as intimidated by the chopping emotions of the warriors he called his brothers. He held a finger up and told me to wait, before skittering from his seat and out of the front door. Coward, I thought bitterly.
I took hold of the cup that sat before me, remembering how Allys had fallen so lifelessly at my feet when I had struck her with it. The size of your opponent shouldn't matter if you knew where to lunge. There was no muscle strong enough to protect the brain from a bludgeon. I imagined one of these mighty men would fall just the same as the now dead girl if I struck them hard enough. Whether it was faux bravado or too much time in the company of Ramsay the moment a hand grasped my thigh I unleashed the adrenaline that had simmered beneath the surface during the meal. With all the force I could muster I plunged a fork into the wandering hand and watched in delight as the fingers struck out in shock. The man behind me hollered and out I was dragged from the seat. Not nearly as quickly as he had snatched the fork from his flesh and held it to my throat.
"You Bolton scum! You'll pay for that!"
I struck the man hard with the goblet and watched as he stiffened up further in his rage. With blood seeping through the ugly gaps in his broken teeth he smiled menacingly as if the blow had been nothing more than a child swatting at his grizzly cheek. "Silly girl..How about I take you for a real fucki—"
I didn't see him enter the room. Nor did I see him charge like a bull at my attacker. All that signalled his arrival was the forcible whoosh of air as he slammed the man to the ground. I stumbled back from the ordeal as the wolf pitted himself against the other in a vicious assault. Jon was a force to be reckoned with when his usual composure had diminished. His true size and strength exhibited clearly with powerful blows as he threw the man like a rag doll from left to right, heavy punches cracking both rib and jaw in equal measure. The vultures that had leered ever closer now cowered back to their seats as Jon made a meal of beating his opponent to a pitiful crumple at his feet. I had heard the King in the North was an avid fighter, but witnessing the gruesome hand to hand combat first hand was still impressive. Heightened again through the sheer shock of it being delt by the gentle soul that had comforted me not so long ago in my hour of need.
"I yield! Jon, I yield!" The man cried out helplessly. Jon had become lost to his temper. I could see the words slowly seeping through the crimson veil that muffled deft ears, yet somehow he snapped his hands back in restraint. Strange.
He turned wildly to the men in the hall, pointing directly at the slob now clambering away from the King towering above him.
"Anyone else? Anyone else care to disrespect our guest in my presence?!" Jon's roared the question at the group, who stared on in a solemn silence. "You should be ashamed of yourselves." The roar quietened to a growl. It was equally effective. None of the brothers met his gaze. Without another word passing anyone's lips Jon ran a bloodied hand through his unkempt hair and stormed back towards the door. He turned just before leaving, looking back to me with what little patience he had mustered up in the short space of time.
"Come." He muttered, gentler still.
I obeyed. The door clicked firmly shut behind us and I heard the audible sigh of relief from his men as we headed out into the winter's night. The silence was making me uneasy.
"Thank you, your Grace."
"It's Jon." He corrected snippily, eyes forward facing as he marched ahead.
"Right.." A smile touched my lips at the familiarity of it all. "Thank you, Jon."
Ramsay had estimated a few days to pass before I earned my way into Jon's bedchambers. It seemed the ordeal over dinner had sped up the process without any effort on my part. I stood warily in the centre of the room. A map lie open on the table, with markers dotted around the Kingdom and familiar sigils carved from wood all placed in their territories in solidarity. The markers meant very little to me. I was not here to corrupt any war plans. Only to catch a King. The familiar X of house Bolton stood guard over Winterfell and I thought longingly of Ramsay and his furs. The strange walls and strange men had done nothing but set my teeth on edge since arriving. I pined for the comforts of home. As comfortless as as they were.
"I angered a few of my brothers this evening, Ghost. I worry that you will pay the price for that if left unattended in a bed chamber." The blunt statement didn't shake my nerves. I had felt the vengeance in the air as Jon had deprived the men of the luxury of lust.
"A king need not justify his decisions to a slave, your Grace. I will sleep wherever you please." I gestured to the bed and then to the floor for good measure.
"You are not a slave. You are a guest. You may take my furs if you wish." He waited for a response to which I gave none. I wanted to know if the King would sacrifice his honour once more to sleep next to a broken girl.
Jon sighed heavily and raised a dark brow in contempt. "You will freeze to death if you sleep on the floor. As will I. I could arrange for another room to be cleared, but I cannot spare the men to guard the doorway. You sleep here." Jon rose from the leather seat decidedly and approached with catlike grace. Something had changed the King since our last meeting. He was harder, somehow. Angrier. I wondered what event had stolen the warmth from his now unreadable gaze.
"Why did you run from the Inn, Ghost? Why did you run back to him?"
"I simply ran, your Grace. Not back to my Lord and not away from you."
"Did you feel I could not protect you?" Jon bristled at his own question.
"I don't believe anyone can protect themselves from him. He would have caught me whether I lied in wait or ran for the hills. It makes no difference. My Lord is relentless in his pursuits. I have never seen him return from a hunt empty handed."
"Before you spoke only in fear. Now your eyes betray your words for what you truly speak." Jon rose from the furs and began to undress mindlessly. Where had the blushing boy from the Inn disappeared to? "You are impressed by him."
I watched in wait while the white linen shirt peeled away from his skin, revealing a body taut with muscle and as firm as the man it belonged to I took a moment to consider his statement. A moment longer to consider if Jon were as brutal in the furs as he was in combat.
"Ramsay is an impressive man, your Grace. Terrifying, too. I am relieved to be free from his hold," I paused as Jon stilled before me, turning so the steady rise and fall of his broad chest became my only focus as I continued painfully, "But I sometimes feel lost in a world of the living when he is not around. There is beauty in his rage. I've felt it. It can give life as quickly as it can take it."
"Being beaten to death by a man three times your size is no way to remind yourself you are alive, Ghost. You must know that?"
"There are worse ways to forget." I muttered, wincing at the memory of my isolation in the wall for so long. I could still hear it whispering from deep within the cracks in my conscience, threatening to tear open like a fissure now Ramsay no longer grappled my thoughts and forced it closed. We stood before each other curiously for a time, Jon's eyes became searching as he let wandering hands skim over every sore, scar and bruise that had been left behind upon my departure from Ramsay.
"What has he done to you, sweet girl?"
I didn't think he meant the beating. In fact, I didn't think Jon was speaking to me at all. His voice became distant as a hand mindlessly rose to trace my cheek. The tender brush of his fingertips was unfamiliar and I stood rigidly beneath his burning body. I did not want his sympathy. I did not want him looking at me with that awfully pained expression that made me feel weak and powerless as I had lived for so long. I could take every beating Ramsay rained down on me. All of them. A thousand times over and God's be good I would I deserve it when he came for Jon at my treachery. Jon's sorrow was nearly as infectious as Ramsay's fury. It emitted from him in heavy waves that washed over me and began to weaken a once strong resolve. My turmoil began to show even in the now wavering candlelight and Jon recomposed, pulling himself away with little to no hesitance.
"I apologise. I find it hard to witness a woman bear more battle scars than some of the seasoned soldiers that man the wall. Forgive my stares." Jon was both sharp and smooth in his apology. I nodded my acceptance and moved away towards the bed furs - relieved the growing tension had been defused before my tongue had tripped me into trouble once more. I didn't think Jon were the type of man to strike me if I dared enter the bedding without him, so fully clothed and no longer willing to speak of my Lord and his depravity I crawled soundlessly into the furs and became lost to their warmth and forgetful of the severe lack of it here at the Wall.